


The wedding night

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [27]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Wedding Night, consummation, diverges in season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: To protect Tyrion, Jaime concedes to his father's demands and marries Brienne. While they spend days living under the same roof and sleeping on the same bed, their relationship, however, is no more than a friendly alliance to save an innocent.Until one night...Until one of them pines hard for the other...Until things change...
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483640
Comments: 16
Kudos: 142





	The wedding night

_“I love you, Brienne,” he exhaled heavily between her breasts. “You’re mine.” And with a possessive roar that brought out the lion in him, he plunged harder, dragging her with him to the peak of his pleasure, his climax gushing into her to bring them together as one, like the gods had decided for them to be._

_“Oh, Jaime,” she erupted, her fingers raking through his damp hair as she took him in -- his crushing lips on hers, the torrid heat of his skin and the cool dampness of his sweat, the flood of his seed within her, his bliss, his pain, the sweet and sour of him. “I love--”_

Brienne opened her eyes with a start, clutching a fistful of the bedspread, panting.

Even after she’d taken a moment to come to terms with it, she could feel the impact of what she’d been through in every corner of her body, the throbbing in the pit of her belly and the arousal between her legs, a manifestation of her dream in the real world.

As was her nightly routine, sleep completely abandoned her and she sat up, glancing at the man in her bed. A sigh of longing, she let out, cursing her fate as she took in his splendour. He was her husband, but only by name. Lady Brienne, of House Lannister, she had the right to call herself, the wife of the most handsome man in Westeros and the heir to one of the most powerful houses that lived, but the right to his love, his body, his heart and his bed belonged, not to her, but another.

And as long as Cersei was deeply embedded in his soul, Jaime could never be hers. He had wed Brienne only to strike a deal with his father to save his brother. She was no more than a bond he had to endure, a price he had to pay to keep his little brother safe. And that was all there would be between them. Why she had agreed to his plan, was a different question, altogether. Perhaps, because she wanted to do something in return for his compassion at Harrenhal. Or was it because she had fallen in love with him?

For now, for this lifetime, she had to contend with no more than his respect and his name, for his undying love for his sister would last no less than that.

To add to her distress, he chose that very moment to stir in his sleep and stretch his arms, giving her an undiluted view of his broad chest. He always slept without his shirt on, in his corner of the bed, a gap as wide as an ocean separating them, and she spent each night beside him, yearning, pining, craving for his touch, his kisses, dying every minute of her life as his wife, unable to do more than admire him from a distance.

Her eyes fixed on his chest rising and falling at a steady pace, a fleeting thought of what it might be like to have that firm torso pin her down to the bed took seed in her mind, and an urgent need to finish what her dream had left her incomplete with, grappling her, she let her fingertips trickle slowly down her throat, kissing and caressing her perspiration clad skin, picturing it to be his hand, his lips, his body on hers. Working her shirt open, she slipped her hands in, massaging her belly, palming her breasts, plucking her nipples until they were unbearably hard, seeking out parts of her he’d invaded in her dream, waiting to be explored, waiting to bloom under the right kind of touch. Loosening her pants, she slid a hand between her legs, her fingers extending, pushing in until she found the sensitive bud that lay just beneath her folds. 

A little more pressure, and the fire had been sparked, starting between her legs and enveloping her from all sides. It was only a matter of time until it engulfed her whole body. “Oh, Jaime,” she softly sighed, connecting with the passionate _him_ in her dreams when her clit began swelling beneath her thumb, a wet heat spreading in and around, widening its breadth with the steadily mounting friction of her movements. Stroking and massaging, she mimicked the torture he’d put her through in her dream, taking each thrust to the next level of unbearable, strumming her thumb across the tiny bit of skin, playing a melody, soft, sweet, then louder and louder until the pitch began to ascend… 

Until she could feel him inside her... 

_Buried. Imprisoned. One with me._

With each movement of her hips, a delicious pulse began to build and she drew her finger further up in the moist layers of her skin. She couldn’t stop at this. She needed her body to breathe, to feel, to writhe and bathe in this joyous suffering. Releasing her legs completely from her pants, she kicked them away and spread her thighs, relishing the freedom and exposure and the sensation of the fresh air hit her growing wetness. 

“ _Jaime,_ ” she moaned, loud enough to rouse her soul, yet, soft enough not to wake him, her body contracting, responding, dancing to the tunes of the assault on her clit. While she could only dream of having him, this would do for now, the firm and fierce scraping of her thumb against her delicate bud getting heavier and more intense as the seconds rolled by, her solitary journey up this ladder of agony and pleasure letting her slide back into the dream. 

Relentless, unable to hold back, she pushed up the pace until the pitch hit a crescendo, until she snapped, until she… 

_Oh, gods!_

Such a heavenly feeling it was, such a wonderful moment of release! Yet, when the tidal waves had receded, all they left behind was the residual sand. Despite soaring past the zenith of her pleasure, she felt incomplete. Lacking. Empty.

_Without you..._

Drawing herself into a forced state of calm when the shivers had subsided, she bent to pick up her pants and clothe herself again, when she felt a tug on her shoulder.

“Wench,” he said softly, and when she turned to him with trepidation, his eyes had it written in them that he’d been a witness to the spectacle.

Her mind went numb at the alarming possibilities before her. How much did he see? Did her helpless moan of his name get into his ears? She had not the nerve to look at him, but an explanation, she thought, might help curtail some of her uneasiness. “Ser Jaime, I--”

Jaime caught her mouth in a kiss that drove away the rest of her excuse, his unexpected move, leaving her dazed, confused, wondering if she had been transported into another of those tauntingly tantalising _visions_. But he felt real, the penetrating passion in his lips, the way he was working his way into her mouth, the harmony they settled down to after a fleeting few fumbles of her inexperience, making her want to bury herself deep within him and never surface again. Only vaguely aware of her shirt slipping down her shoulders, Brienne sank into him, the tenderness of her breasts meeting his prickly chest hair, her achingly erect tits, grinding against his masculine skin. 

_This… You… This is what I--_

Allowing her no privilege of any thoughts but of him, he bound her to his chest in an embrace laden with purpose and deepened the kiss, his tongue engaging in a frantic coupling with hers exactly like in her hot dreams. A pressing urge took control of her, all she wanted was him, her husband. She wanted him to be her lord in every way a wife would wish for. She wanted him to be a lion in bed. She wanted to bear his heirs. She wanted to protect him, to keep him safe from the evils of the world. 

She wanted a life with him. On Casterly Rock. On Tarth. It didn’t matter where.

Moments passed between them, long and lazy and seductive as hell, their lips never parting company, stitched together with the thread of desire, the world beyond him, diminishing out of existence as his kiss intensified, as he lay her on the bed and climbed on top of her. A gasp escaped her when he claimed her breasts, a hand cupping one and his stump teasing the other, her stiff nipples pressing into his greedy touch as he squeezed and caressed and prodded her. 

She twitched, her head falling back in ecstasy and her chest thrusting into him, when his nail scraped her nipple. “I’ve been dreaming of this for ages,” she confessed in her delirious desperation, waves of unadulterated pleasure rolling over her, wrapping all of her. “Every night.”

Jaime buried his face between her breasts. “Is it not fair, then, that I should bring your dreams to life?” he hoarsely proposed, his stubble leaving a reddish trail down her middle. “Let me be your husband for once, Brienne.” He settled down to play with her tits, drawing first one into his mouth and then the other, running the tip of his tongue over the erect nubs, swirling over them. “Let me--”

“Y-- yes,” she stuttered before he could finish, riding so high on her emotions and what her body was going through, that she could barely string two words together. She was melting away on a slow fire like a candle, the most sensitive parts of her beginning to flare up and burn and sense his presence and what was coming, throbbing and beating away with expectation, killing her with what she was going through and the excitement of more. She was aching inside, yearning for him to soothe away her pain, for the fullness of _him_ to banish her emptiness and make her feel like a woman.

Eying her like no man ever had, he let go of her and began fumbling with his pants. Brienne sat up to help him break free, mesmerized as she unwrapped him, his cock, springing out to meet her shaking fingers when she’d pulled down his pants, long and so thick, just like she remembered it from the only other fateful night she’d seen him naked. 

_My husband… You and me, imprisoned in each other… And this beautiful night..._

The idea of him nestled deeply inside her was almost too much for her to bear, but Jaime appeared to have other ideas when he shoved her back on the soft mattress and buried his face between her legs, his calloused fingers on her tender skin and his wet fiery kisses causing her to break into a fresh burst of sweat. Tremors, intense as hell, stinging and rippling through her, she arched her back, offering herself to him fully, and just like she’d always pictured it, ever so slowly, he began to lick her up and down, the flicking movements of his tongue, driving her to cry out loud. While self-pleasure had somewhat satiated her bodily needs, this was something else, something that went past the hunger of the flesh and touched her at more than one level. She couldn’t help thrusting and kicking into him; she couldn’t help the noises she made, his soft wet lips against her folds, all-consuming. She never wanted it to end, yet couldn’t wait for it to stop, so he could begin all over again and inflict this torment upon her. Drawing her hips back, she wrapped her legs around the back of his head, desperate to make the most of every second of his attention. 

“Yes,” she gasped, when she felt a firm finger advance where no man had yet entered, slick and gliding, gathering the sticky wetness she’d created. This was not just a pleasurable sensation but a state of heavenly bliss, and ravenous for more, she dug her elbows into the bed and stretched her legs wider. The sound of his ragged breathing mingled with rasped cries of her name and incoherent curses when he let in another finger to fortify his attack, and she could feel her muscles expanding, tight, though she was, embracing all that he could unleash upon her.

He was everywhere, tongue and fingers, teeth and lips. And she was burning. Outside, from within… everywhere.

His stump planted firmly on one thigh and his good arm tightly curled around the other, he spread her open wider and drove himself closer to her, flattening his tongue and using its warm wet width to lap her up, to feast on her arousal, to overwhelm her wherever he lay his touch. For several glorious moments, he continued to devour her, the peak of her pleasure his only objective. The sweet sensuality of carnal pressure was mounting between her thighs, the ups and downs, tortuous, yet exhilarating, like some of the best duels she’d engaged in. She tried to move but he had her pinned with his strong arms, keeping her down, keeping her in place. 

Writhing and thrashing against the smooth sheets, she bathed in the waves of unadulterated bliss crashing over her, drenched, soaked, her climax, more powerful than she’d expected. She broke down when Jaime deftly manoeuvred her clit between his thumb and tongue, prodding, pressing, punishing it, coaxing her, provoking her body and compelling her to let go and give in. 

She cried out - what, she wasn’t sure. His name, perhaps, for that was all she could think of now, the exquisite bolt of lightning shooting through her body, collapsing over her and drowning her in a sea of ecstasy.

When the torture had passed, she lay still, waiting for the shock to subside, her eyes loosely shut lest this might be a sweet dream she might wake up from, her breathing, laboured and tedious. 

“You’re so beautiful, my lady,” his honeyed compliment wafted up her body, and she opened her eyes to welcome him when he climbed on top of her.

 _Liar,_ she mused to herself, exhaling as his weight came down on her. The want, the longing and determination on his face made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand to attention. When his face came down to meet hers, she could feel his heart beating against her breasts, a steady rhythmic thud that began to rapidly hasten as she parted her legs to invite him in for more. 

Gliding down her neck, he planted soft, feathery kisses between her breasts, his gaze searching her face. “The night has almost come to an end but the music’s still playing,” he said huskily, eyes sparkling with lust. “Might I have this dance, my lady?”

“Yes,” she replied, wanting to be sucked into his rhythm. “Yes,” she said, firmer this time, her arms going around his back to caress him, her eyes, assuring him she wanted all he could give.

He pushed against her, his erection twitching when it kissed her thighs, intimidating, yet enticing, and she found herself wanting everything right now. She could wait no more, and sensing her urgency, he plunged into her folds, just the tip, but--

“Oww,” she cried out, her nails digging into his back, the sudden pressure on her walls to accommodate him and the tearing sensation of more than a finger inside her, overwhelming.

He pulled back, eyes swimming with concern. “Did I hurt you?”

Of course, she was a virgin. The pain would come, but then, so would the grand sensation of embracing his ample girth. “I want you,” she told him, looking deep into those worried eyes, and wrapping him in her embrace, she rubbed her dense wetness against his length. Pressing her mouth to his throat, she thrust her hips into him, begging him for more with the wordless sounds she made. 

This time, though, he refrained from going all the way, teasing her with light strokes on the outside of her folds, caressing her sore and sensitive clit with the tip of his erection. Then, parting her soft folds, he entered her, ever so gently. 

Brienne closed her eyes to let the feeling through.

_I want you._

A sensation this intense, too much to bear, it was testing her so hard she feared she might die of her raptures. With the next thrust, she got what she’d been dreaming of, aching for - the scorching, blistering stream of thick hard fire inside her.

And when he tore past her maidenhead, she let herself go blank to let this sink in - the fleeting prick of pain, the shower of sensations and emotions he rained all over her.

_I need you to be like this. To never leave me. To never unwind your body from mine._

“ _Ohh,_ ” she burst out, when he filled her until he could, no more, when their bodies were fully connected in a way she’d never imagined she would know. 

_Not Renly… no one else..._

Such a wonderful burst of pain, this was, and, oh, such immense pleasure, it struck her with, and after a thrust or two of disoriented clumsiness and tentative caution on his part, they settled down into a beat of perfection, falling into step and matching each other’s moves, in unison, their bodies gliding, slapping and grinding against each other as one. Lips and tongue duelling with skin, and sweat tasting sweeter than honey, they kissed and caressed and groped, not caring where their hands and mouths wandered, revelling in the sensations drifting through their veins. She wanted to be closer to him than the air she breathed. She wanted to forego everything - her cares, her burdens and that she had to, one day, take leave of him to find Sansa. She wanted no words but his name on her lips, no clothes but his skin on her body. 

_I want no life, but a life with you._

Bringing her knees up, she wound her legs around his firm ass, drawing him in, eager not to leave a hair’s breadth of gap between them.

“ _Please,_ ” she begged, “now.” 

And he caved in, pushing his hips forward, ramming deep into her. 

_I love you..._

Holding her gaze, he stepped up the music, pumping harder, his thighs flexing, their dance picking up pace to roll to an end, the sound of their skin clapping mingled with her breathy cries, ringing into the golden freshness of the new dawn. Their connection was exquisite, perfect, like they had indulged in this every night, all their lives. 

_I love you…_

The familiarity of a climax was beginning to stir within her and she could make out that Jaime sensed it too. He was pounding into her with passion and vigour, treating her with something new each time, every thrust uncovering a surprise, a side of him she’d never seen before. Lowering his head, he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently, firmly, before releasing it with a wet pop, and a moan slipped past her lips, the sensitive balance between pleasure and pain a new-found experience for her.

_I love you..._

She twisted and gasped beneath him helplessly, her senses loaded with sheer delight and unmitigated bliss. And surrendering to the pleasure, she threw back her head and lost herself in his thunderous tempo, her prolonged exertion coming to a perfect conclusion when she dissolved into a cloud of a million tiny sparks, each, bearing the mark of his touch, his kisses and his name.

_I am yours... Yours. Your lady. Your wife._

He began to spasm, his cock throbbing and straining inside her, and she knew his end was near. Decorating her face, her neck and breasts with unrestrained kisses, he cried out her name and gripped her arm, moving inwards and outside, over and over again in a pace that was going to be the death of him. 

“Oh, wench.” 

Such deep passion, his words were infused with. 

“ _Brienne!_ ”

His face tensed, he was crumbling and she could feel it. And when he could fight it no more, he came with a growl, holding himself in her, his neck muscles tight, the veins snaking beneath his skin, straining to burst free. Struggling to catch her breath, Brienne watched him with dazed eyes as he filled her with his seed, the thought of someone finding such pleasure with her, unbelievably overwhelming. 

When it was over, he fell limply onto her, his lips drawing hers into a slow, passionate kiss. She lay with him, a woman with her man, a wife with her husband. Like it was meant to be.

Many moons had passed since their wedding, and while they’d lain on the same bed as man and wife, they never truly had been. And now, such was the suddenness of their union, that she knew not what would come next. Visions of Cersei loomed large in her head, and she pulled away from him and sat up, the euphoria of what had just passed between them slowly dying down, doubt after doubt creeping into her heart now that the moment was sailing away. Had he fucked her merely to rid her of the suffering? 

“This--” She blushed, unable to describe the storm she’d been through. “Why did you--”

“Because I wanted to.” He pulled her into an intimate embrace. “Because I, too, have been dreaming of this for ages.” His fingertips lazily tracing a pattern along her flushed skin, he looked at her like she was his most prized possession.

Brienne tried to soak in the affection in those eyes. “Ser Jaime--”

“After all that has happened between us, am I still _Ser Jaime_ to you?” he asked, eyes shrinking in disbelief.

The questions swimming in her head compelled her to dodge his. “If you wanted me, why didn’t you--”

“--act all these weeks?” He kissed her forehead with tenderness. “Because I was under the presumption that you married me just to save Tyrion, that you didn’t want to be bound to an oathbreaker like me.”

“But your sister--”

“I haven’t been with her since I wed you. Nor am I going to, ever again, because she’s my sister and that is all she will be.” He ran his fingers through her hair, his profession, so heartfelt that she felt her eyes moisten. “I love you, Brienne, but I also understand that this is not the life you seek.” He looked disappointed, yet determined. “I made you a promise on our wedding night and I’m going to keep it. I will help you find Sansa. If you wish to end this once Tyrion is safely out of the country, I won’t stop you. This marriage will only last as long as you want it to--”

“Until the end of our days,” she cut through his selfless suggestion, letting her lips graze the damp hair on his chest. “Was that not what we promised each other at the altar?”

He broke into a charming smile, the innocent bliss in his eyes making him look ten years younger and ten times more handsome. “You mean--”

“Yes.” Brienne slid up his body to reach his lips. “Yes, I love you, Jaime.” She pressed a deep kiss to his mouth. “I am your wife, from this day until the end of my days.” she said, her voice breaking under the strain of too much happiness. “The wife of an Oathkeeper.”

Threading his fingers in hers, he brought her hand to his chest. “And I am yours, my lady, ” the steady thumping of his heart to the rhythm of hers, sealing their mutual declaration of love and the promise to be bound until death.

“Speaking of our wedding night,” she added, blushing profusely when she relived the details of their fiery consummation, “that was just perfect. Better than my dreams.”

With a kiss that bore the promise to bring all her passionate fantasies to life, her husband enveloped her in his strong arms, this beautiful dawn, their long pending wedding night, and what it was the beginning of, her world and the life ahead of her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
